


sunflower

by starboykeith



Series: guys my age [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Communication, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, House Hunting, M/M, Moving In Together, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29407902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboykeith/pseuds/starboykeith
Summary: Four years on, Keith’s graduating college and deciding between jobs in New York and San Francisco. Relationships are supposed to be about compromise, but Shiro can’t let Keith settle for anything less than what he worked so hard to achieve.Most couples struggle with this kind of dilemma — but they aren't most couples.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: guys my age [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/913077
Comments: 36
Kudos: 187





	sunflower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avidbeader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidbeader/gifts).



> for avid, who has the patience of a saint and who i'm so lucky to call a dear friend. i really hope you love this.
> 
> extremely fitting that my 50th fic on here is sheith and part of 'guys my age' :') you can read this as a standalone but it'll hit harder if you read the series!
> 
> (disclaimer that i am not american so i have no idea about your cities, and i am not in space tech so the job stuff is kept incredibly vague)

Shiro looks up when the key turns in the lock, revealing Keith flushed and damp and brandishing another letter, the second this week. The rain hasn’t dampened his spirits, however, and Keith’s grinning when he puts the letter in front of Shiro.

“Dear Mr Kogane,” Shiro reads, a smile breaking through his tired countenance. “We are pleased to offer you… Keith, that’s fantastic! Palmer & Co as well, that’s your—“

“Second choice, yeah,” Keith says. His smile is too soft to be joy at his third job offer, and Shiro raises a questioning eyebrow. “You read all of them with the same enthusiasm,” Keith says, eyes crinkling at the corners and Shiro stands up and kisses him, resisting the urge to pick Keith up and spin him around.

“And that’s because,” Shiro says, drawing back and beaming at him, “I’m just as excited every time.” Keith’s hands slide to Shiro’s shoulders. “We’ll get dinner to celebrate.”

“Not tonight,” Keith says, apologetic. “I’m getting takeout with Hunk and Lance — movie night.” Shiro smiles ruefully. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Usually, Shiro would — he likes Keith’s friends, even likes navigating the choppy waters of conversation with Lance’s notorious motormouth, but he has some things to go over for a conference that’s already been rescheduled twice, and he’d much rather get it over with.

“Tomorrow, then?” he says.

The apartment is brighter with Keith in it, so once he leaves for Lance’s place, Shiro goes around and apathetically turns on all the lights, creating a more optimistic backdrop for the tedious statistics he has to verify before they reach the project manager's desk.

It’s nice to see Keith hopeful, he thinks. Keith’s been a little frazzled since at least Christmas, when he first started applying to graduate jobs, anything he could find that fit the bill. Shiro had sat back, helping Keith with his CV, proofreading his cover letters, giving advice on certain companies’ reputations, but only when asked. He didn’t want to push, not at this crucial stage; he wasn’t Keith’s father, after all.

What he’s most proud of, despite Keith’s exceptional GPA and him graduating with multiple job offers in his pocket already, is how true Keith stayed to himself. He’s still that scrappy kid at heart, knowing what he wants and exactly how to get it. Keith always insisted on paying his own way, turning down Shiro’s offers of help, because Shiro remembers well the struggle of balancing work and study and wanted Keith to have every opportunity to thrive. But Keith worked all through college, slipping from Shiro’s grasp in the summers as he picked up as many shifts as possible, and in the summer of his third year, he secured an internship at Shiro’s rival company, reassured by the knowledge he had earned it himself.

Now, Keith has too many offers to count, companies impressed by him graduating summa cum laude and his extracurriculars and his prestigious internship, a strong foundation Shiro was grateful to have a hand in, to nudge Keith towards things his own CV had lacked at that age.

The glory is all Keith’s, as it should be, and Shiro would never hold him back from his dreams, but he can’t help but start thinking about how things are going to change.

Keith still lives with Lance, but he isn’t home often, clothes and a toothbrush and most of his life at Shiro’s apartment, and Keith says Lance isn’t looking to renew their contract. He’s already started apartment-hunting with Hunk in a different city, a topic Keith has glossed over, perhaps also fearing the beginning of the end. Everything changes after college, jobs and homes and cities, and Shiro, selfish, can’t help but hope that there’s a place for him in Keith’s bright future. Palmer & Co is based in New York City, not too big of a jump from Pittsburgh, but a move is a move, and it can make or break a relationship.

But he’s old and wise enough to know that bottling up such feelings never got anyone anywhere, planning to bring it up at dinner the next day no matter what. Keith beats him to it.

He has yet another envelope in his hand. “So,” he says, oddly nervous, “I didn’t tell you the whole story yesterday.”

“Oh?” Shiro already knows it’s good news, but pretends to be in suspense.

“I got another offer,” Keith says. “The last one, I think.” He slides the letter from the envelope, the seal long since broken and ripped, characteristic of Keith’s usual impatience. Keith heaves a sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath, and slides the letter across the table to Shiro. “Farrow & Alderman.”

Pride bubbles up inside Shiro’s chest, making it hard to breathe for a second, half-choked up with that pure joy Keith brings out in him. “ _Keith_ ,” he says, and this time he really would pick Keith up and spin him around, if they weren’t already seated, because Farrow & Alderman was Keith’s _first_ choice. He contents himself with squeezing Keith’s hand so hard it hurts. “God,” he says. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, bashful but glowing all the same. When their drinks arrive, Shiro orders a bottle of champagne, insistent on celebrating despite Keith’s feeble protests about not wanting to make a fuss, because damn it, Keith _deserves_ it. It’s worth it for Keith’s flushed cheeks and luminous smile, worth it to see Keith’s pride in himself, that realisation that his hard work paid off.

“Anyway,” Keith says later, when they’ve cleaned the last of the syrup from their plates. “Uh, a cappuccino, please,” he says to the waiter taking their dishes, and Shiro indicates he’ll have the same. “So. San Francisco.”

“San Francisco,” Shiro echoes, suddenly very aware of the candle flickering between them. Farrow & Alderman had seemed far-off, like a dream, when Keith applied, the other side of the country with some of the most stringent hiring processes Shiro knew of. They’d interviewed Keith via telephone, Skype, and finally flew him out for a face-to-face, Shiro’s first hint that things were getting serious. He’d gone with Keith, stayed the weekend, and Keith had _liked_ San Francisco, had told Shiro he could see himself living there.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this in the restaurant,” Keith says, and he’s nervous again, taking a large gulp of his too-hot cappuccino. Shiro’s thoughts slide to any cagey behaviour from the last few weeks, trying to find any instance of Keith starting to distance himself, and then feels stupid for even thinking it, particularly when Keith continues, “I don’t want to leave Pittsburgh without you.”

Shiro’s eyebrows raise of their own accord, the exchange feeling like a rubber band coming back to snap him in the face. He takes a deep breath, and lets it out without speaking. “You’re right,” is what he says a moment later, holding back from anything rash. “We should talk about this at home.”

The mood turns somber despite the glow of the champagne, and rather than getting handsy in the cab, Shiro sits stiffly upright and Keith picks nervously at his nails. It lightens in the elevator, because Keith sets his jaw, grabs Shiro’s hand somewhat forcefully and tempers it by kissing him soft on the mouth.

“Are you mad?” he asks.

“No,” Shiro counters, gently. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Good,” Shiro says, and he lets himself smile, his shoulders relaxing. Keith relaxes in turn, in tune with Shiro’s body language as always and, even after all this time, fearful of loud anger. Even from Shiro, whose anger tends to be quiet and cruel — not something he’s proud of.

They head immediately to the kitchen — much as Keith likes to tease him about it, Shiro’s peppermint tea in the evening is one of many ingrained habits. Keith hops up on the counter, and Shiro pauses his musings just long enough to smirk at Keith, who grins, both of them remembering the… _memories_ associated with that island.

Once the tea is steeping, iPhone timer set to three minutes, Shiro leans against the counter. He doesn’t do Keith the disservice of pretending not to know exactly what he meant by not wanting to leave without Shiro, and starts, carefully, with, “Farrow & Alderman is a fantastic opportunity, Keith.”

“I know,” Keith says. “I know. But San Francisco’s a big move.”

He’s really thought about this, Shiro realises suddenly — has known since at least yesterday, as Shiro had already guessed, but has already mulled it over from every angle. Including, unfortunately, this one.

“You beat me to asking to move in together,” Shiro says instead of replying, and Keith gives him a brilliant smile.

“You took too long,” he says cheekily, and then his smile falters a little. “But your answer is sounding like a no.”

Shiro bites his lip, torn. “Of course I want to live with you,” he says, because that’s important. “But there’s no way I’m going to let—” He realises his mistake immediately; Keith’s lip curls. “No way I can watch you miss out on the biggest opportunity of your life.”

For that, Shiro thinks, he’d suffer losing Keith — to know that Keith was thriving, doing what he loves, Shiro would let him go, no matter how much it hurt. But there’s that selfish curl of greed in his stomach, the one that reminds him he almost let Keith slip through his fingers four years ago, and he can’t let it happen again. He can’t imagine the hole losing Keith would leave in his life, can’t imagine not waking up to Keith’s knobbly knees in the backs of his thighs, never again seeing the smile Keith breaks into when he spots Shiro’s car come to pick him up, losing the way Keith fits against his body, sultry in the evenings and soft in the mornings, warm and _his_ , just his.

But, he reminds himself, it’s not his decision. If Keith wants to stay with him, wants to go to sleep wrapped up in each other and wake up the same way, wants to take up his second choice in New York — because Shiro’s sure that’s what he’s proposing — it’s Keith’s choice to make, for better or worse. He’ll take Keith, as long as Keith will have him.

“It is a good opportunity,” Keith allows, apparently having been deep in thought as long as Shiro. “But… but no one, _nothing_ is better for me than you. If I’ve got you, I can do amazing work _anywhere_.”

“You might be better off,” Shiro says, but his argument is getting weaker. He feels terribly human, unable to separate his own desires from Keith’s best interests, and turns his back to ditch the teabag and add milk and honey to the steaming mug.

“I’m not better off without you,” Keith says firmly. “Shiro, I got through college because of you. Christ, I wouldn’t have known where to _start_ in space tech without you.”

Shiro maintains that Keith would have been fine without him — Keith’s street-smart and intelligent, a combination not boasted by most Ivy Leaguers, as well as possessing the initiative to take him far — but he knows the difference real emotional support can make, and Keith hadn’t had much of that growing up.

There is a thought that occurs to him, something lurking in the corner of his mind, a way they could be together _and_ Keith could accept his dream job offer in San Francisco. But he has to make some calls first, make sure there’s a path to making it happen, so for now he says, “Don’t make any hasty decisions, okay? You’ve still got some time.”

Keith’s smiling, thinking he’s come around at last. “Okay,” he agrees, careful with his tone. “Wanna watch The Mandalorian?”

Shiro sips his tea, equally careful to appear as though the discussion is over, rather than something he’s put a pin in to come back to later. “Cool,” is what he says out loud, happy to have Keith warm against him on the sofa and secure in the knowledge that Keith won’t have to compromise his dreams for Shiro. Not now, not ever.

* * *

He starts with a cross-country phone call to Matt, who made his home in brutal Silicon Valley long before it crossed Shiro’s mind and whose sister has coincidentally just finished college as well, already job-hunting with a ferocity that makes Matt chuckle.

“She’s tenacious as hell, it won't take long,” he says warmly. Shiro asks after his parents, and his fiancée, glad to catch up with a friend, and then enquires who he might speak to about a transfer to Matt's company. While he has an acquaintance in Farrow & Alderman's IT department who could make the call, the last thing he wants to do is assume a position of power over Keith in the very company he worked so hard to get an offer from.

“Only took you seven years to see the light, then.”

“Keith’s job-hunting, too.” Shiro hesitates, wanting to share his news but struggling with the caveat that Matt will rib him about robbing the cradle. “He’s been offered a job with you, but…”

“Birdie doesn’t want to leave the nest!” Matt pipes up immediately, mile-wide grin audible through the phone.

Shiro groans. “I’m not old enough to be his dad.”

“Not quite,” says Matt, wicked. “But that’s amazing, Shiro! Took me a few unpaid internships outside college to get my offer — Keith must be quite the catch.”

“He is,” Shiro says, smiling to himself and sorry again that Matt wasn’t available to meet when they flew over for Keith’s interview. “You’ll like him.”

“I’ll put you in touch with Roy Stanton,” Matt says. “He’ll sort you out.” He pauses suggestively. “I’m winking, but you can’t see it.”

“Trust me, I can,” Shiro says with an eye-roll he’s grateful Matt can’t see. “Thanks, Matt.”

There’s a crackle of static as Matt shifts the phone and greets his fiancée, signing off with a, “This is all just a ploy to get us a dog-sitter,” that makes Shiro laugh.

It plants a seed in his mind, too. He’s always liked dogs, always wished for a reason to actually enforce the work-life balance and switch off when he comes home. He has that with Keith, finally has the inclination to put his laptop down and prioritise quality time, having risen to the top in too little time to think about a life outside of work.

“Do you like dogs?” Shiro asks, apropos of nothing, when Keith comes over the next day.

“I love dogs,” Keith says, in that warm but wary tone he adopts when he’s unsure of someone’s intentions. It occurs to him after a few seconds, and the smile curving the corners of his mouth is bright and sweet. “You thinking about New York?”

“Always,” Shiro says, which isn’t a lie. Before Keith got home, he’d put in a call to Roy Stanton, who’d been thrilled to hear from him and promised an in-depth phone consultation before the end of the week. His secretary had pencilled Shiro in for Thursday, only two days away and leaving Shiro with the suspicion that Stanton had pushed back several appointments in his favour. He’d scanned his CV with a critical eye, having had no occasion to look at it since his last promotion, and sent it over with fingers crossed.

Keith hasn’t noticed his distraction, having made a beeline for the kitchen and divesting the draining board of mugs in varying stages of tea-stained. He mutters something involving the word ‘housekeeper’ and Shiro chuckles, moving to wrap his arms around Keith from behind.

“I thought about getting a maid, at one point,” he says into Keith’s ear. “But now I have you.”

“Shut up,” Keith says, making a show of pretending to escape and succeeding only in turning in Shiro’s arms, eyes bright with mirth. “Maybe the uniform, though.”

“Now you’re talking.”

Keith grins up at him, and then his expression slides into something more thoughtful. “We should probably book a trip,” he says. “Apartment hunting.”

Shiro hides his wince with practised ease, but his tone is unconvincing. He’s never been a good liar. “Hmm,” he says. “Yep. I’ll get on that.”

What he actually does is leave his laptop open around Keith, a tab open with flights to New York, to throw him off the scent. Keith knows him too well and he doesn’t let up; Shiro considers actually booking the flights, but he recognises this would be a step too far in the deception he’s already uncomfortable with. He hates keeping secrets from Keith, something that became harder and harder as their lives began to merge, to become a happy tangle difficult to extricate oneself from. It’s necessary, because Shiro would hate to get Keith’s hopes up if Stanton falls through, but Thursday becomes the green light Shiro is relieved to finally grasp.

He and Stanton discuss roles, salaries, relocation — setting a baseline for any positions he may be able to offer Shiro. There aren’t many people higher than Shiro in the chain of command, but a message goes up the ladder anyway, roles that come with the title of _director_ and the salary to match.

Stanton doesn’t give a timeframe for when he’ll get back to Shiro this time, but he does imply that he has something in mind. Shiro, full to bursting with his secret enquiries, breaks down and confesses to Keith.

Keith’s panting, hair mussed and damp on the pillow, the blush barely faded from his cheeks. He cracks one eye open. “You’re telling me this _now_?”

Shiro bites his lip, already abused and kiss-swollen, and resumes gently wiping Keith clean, tossing the washcloth in the general vicinity of the laundry basket when he’s finished. “It was killing me,” he says by way of apology. He gets comfortable first, pulling Keith against his side and smiling to himself as Keith shifts until he can glare at him.

“Good,” Keith says indignantly. “I almost booked the flight to New York _for_ us, you know, but you _said_ you’d get it done—”

Shiro shuts him up by kissing him indulgently, feeling Keith relax and smile against him and feeling safe enough to defend himself. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” he explains, immediately striking a solemn tone between them. “I know how much you loved San Francisco. And we’re still figuring things out, but I got the impression there’s a place for me there.”

“There’s a place for you here, idiot,” Keith says fondly.

* * *

Stanton gets back to him with an impressive offer. Shiro negotiates carefully, thrilled to have access to the job at all and not wanting to give the impression that he’s ungrateful. But then it’s put in writing, his documents exchanged, notice put in at his current company, and everything moves fast, faster than he could have dreamed. Keith accepts his offer too, gives notice for his retail job, and all of a sudden they’re on a plane to San Francisco.

House hunting. It feels unreal — after he and Adam hadn’t worked out, Shiro’s determination to rise through the ranks at work making him neglect his home life, Shiro had childishly assumed he couldn’t have everything he wanted. He’s never been so glad to be wrong.

The realtor hangs back as Keith and Shiro enter the first house. Keith tips his head back, astounded by the high ceilings, each room cavernous and making Shiro imagine the art he’d cover the walls in, but Keith shivers and the thought of winter in these rooms is enough to sour Shiro’s mood.

They don’t spend long there, treated to a timely lecture on the difficulty of heating and cooling rooms with high ceilings, but the second house, twenty minutes away and with much better commute links, becomes Shiro’s favourite by virtue of the look on Keith’s face.

Keith’s excited by the prospect of a house with a real fireplace, something he confesses to Shiro in a low tone that he’s never seen before, and Shiro thinks of a youth spent too cold, too hungry, and resolves that if Keith wants this house, he will have it. He’s never minded the specifics of the place he calls home, standards adopted from his brief stint in the army, and it’s a joy to spoil Keith — whenever Keith lets him.

The house is large, but not overwhelmingly so. Shiro’s always looked upon mansions with disdain for their impracticality, the waste of having three times as many bedrooms and bathrooms as the occupants actually need, the sheer expense of bragging rights. This house has three bedrooms, with one currently outfitted as a study.

“You could usually expect two bathrooms in a house this size,” Jane is saying as she leads them upstairs. “However, what I _do_ have for you…” She pauses as she opens the door furthest from the stairs, allowing space in the conversation for excited exclamations — or in their case, raised eyebrows and a quiet, “Wow,” from Keith.

The bathroom is huge, ample floor space reminding Shiro of a walk-in wardrobe, and gleams from every surface. The bath itself is claw-footed and big enough for two, with an equally large shower stall across the room from it. The sink and surrounding cabinets take up much of the wall between, a colossal mirror hung above it reminding Shiro of his TV back home. Seeming shy in contrast, the toilet is tucked away, out of the doorway’s immediate eye-line should someone stumble upon the occupant.

“There’s under-floor heating, obviously,” Jane says, heels clicking on the marble as she turns and consults her clipboard.

“Obviously,” Shiro murmurs, just to make Keith laugh.

Jane shows them the remaining two bedrooms, the smaller one boasting a small balcony with a view of the sprawling back garden, and by the time they’ve made it downstairs, Shiro is certain they don’t need to see the next house. The realtor gives them some time to confer, busying herself making a phone call outside, and Shiro can’t help but grin when he sees Keith’s face.

“Yeah?” he asks, just to be sure, and Keith’s smile says it all.

* * *

Moving is exhausting, no two ways about it. Shiro loves Keith fiercely, he really does, but he wishes Keith hadn’t taped up each box as securely as if he were protecting a maximum security prison.

“At least you can only get paper cuts on one hand,” Keith snarks back. His expression quickly folds in on itself, fearful he’s gone too far, but Shiro just laughs, breaking the sudden tension that had sprung up between them.

It gets easier when they move to different rooms, Shiro tackling the bedroom and Keith unpacking enough of the downstairs stuff that it looks like a home rather than the empty bones of a cold house. They order pizza and collapse in front of the TV and, later, when Keith's eyes are closing against the soporific power of Shiro's fingers carding through his hair, he says sleepily, “I am _so_ trying out that bath tomorrow.”

Shiro wakes late the next day, the sun high in the California sky and Keith asleep beside him, pillow creases over one cheek. He’s snoring, something he only ever does when he’s fast asleep, and Shiro slips out quietly and starts running a bath.

He puts bubbles in for the sheer novelty of it, and once the bathroom is warmed up and smelling faintly of lavender, Keith appears in the doorway, yawning. When he opens his eyes, shadowed with dark bags from their early morning the day before, they light up.

The bath is easily big enough for both of them. Keith trails his fingers in the scented water, flushed and sleepy, but he insists on washing Shiro first, the two of them near-silent as Keith lathers the sponge between his hands and runs it along the length of Shiro’s back. Gentle, steady movements lull Shiro into a trance and he does as Keith bids him, tipping his head back so Keith can rinse the suds from his hair.

They swap places, Keith’s back to Shiro’s chest, and Shiro treats Keith with the same tenderness. He pays special attention to Keith’s hair, much longer than his own, and thinks about combing it by the fireplace later, if Keith will let him. Once he’s finished, he sets the sponge off to the side and coaxes Keith to relax against him.

Shiro feels Keith’s sharp intake of breath when his hands dip lower, gentle touch turning surer as he takes Keith in hand. There’s something thrilling in the way Keith’s legs are helplessly spread, thighs trapped either side of Shiro’s knees and leaving him little leverage to do anything but thrust into Shiro’s touch, turning his head to gasp against Shiro’s neck when his hand begins to wander, teasing a finger over Keith’s hole.

“Still tired?” he asks, rubbing in gentle circles.

“Not anymore,” Keith says, one arm curving up to run his fingers through Shiro’s hair, turning his head to kiss him, long and lingering. “Planned this, did you?”

Shiro nods, pausing in his ministrations to retrieve the bottle of silicone-based lube he’d strategically placed on the counter beside them. “I can be subtle, you know,” he says, taking his fingers away only to slick them with lube and resume his petting.

“That’s news… _oh_.” Keith’s hand tightens in his hair as Shiro slides the first finger inside, path made easy by how relaxed Keith is around him. “News to me,” Keith finally finishes, breathless.

The second finger goes just as easily, and before long Shiro’s moving three fingers inside him, Keith’s soft noises muffled in the splashing of the water. Keith’s legs are trapped tight against Shiro’s as he rocks his hips, a lovely helplessness that sends pleasure licking up Shiro’s spine. He’s hard against Keith’s back, aching to be inside him and spurred on by the sweet torture of the water, warm and wet against his dick.

“I’m ready,” Keith mumbles against Shiro’s neck, detaching his mouth long enough to say, “Come on, it’s been so long—”

Shiro doesn’t envy the impatience of the young, chuckling as he helps Keith sit up, his spine straightening as Shiro runs his hand down it. Regardless, he feels a similar restlessness, the rushed morning intimacies of the past week having done little to quench his need for Keith, selfish desire making him feel ten years younger.

Keith raises his hips, knuckles going white as Shiro guides his cock to Keith’s hole. He lets Keith set the pace, biting his lip hard as Keith sinks down _slowly_ , heart rate amping up at the effort to keep still, inch by glorious inch.

He can’t hold back a moan when he bottoms out, Keith fully seated and shifting in careful movements to find a comfortable position. Shiro, careful not to slip, places one hand on the side of the tub and the other on Keith’s hip, metal fingers rubbing over the jut of the bone there as Keith acclimatises, still and full.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Shiro says against Keith’s hair, grip tightening as he breathes deep. He’s grateful, suddenly, to have the time for this, for the brief moment between moving and starting new jobs that allows them to take time and space for pleasure.

Keith hums, a soft, overwhelmed noise, and Shiro kisses his neck, reaching around to coax him back to full hardness. Keith thrusts helplessly into his hand when Shiro rubs his thumb over the head, both of them moaning at the sudden movement, but Keith keeps moving, slow at first and faster when it’s not enough.

Ripples spiral across the surface of the water but Shiro’s no longer paying attention. His world has narrowed to the place they’re joined, the greedy clutch of Keith’s body around him, breathtaking heat surrounding his cock and urging him deeper. He uses his grip on Keith’s waist to push him to go faster, giving him more leverage to move, the sounds of Keith panting with exertion sweeter than any music.

The angle changes and Shiro knows he’s found Keith’s prostate when Keith wails, arching his back and leaning hard against Shiro’s shoulder, rhythm beginning to falter. “Close,” he gasps.

Shiro kisses at Keith’s gasping lips, aching to kiss him properly, deeply, but settling for increasing the pace, thrusting up hard enough to send waves racing across the water, sloshing over the side of the tub and landing on the tiled floor with a sound swallowed by Keith’s moan.

He’s close too, breath coming quick and fast, and he groans when Keith shifts, fucking himself on Shiro’s cock with dirty grinds of his hips like they’re racing to get each other off first. Shiro’s not about to let Keith win this unspoken contest, wrapping his free hand around Keith’s cock and pumping in time with Keith’s unsteady thrusts.

Keith cries out and comes and Shiro forgets his triumph in favour of drinking in the way orgasm makes Keith unwind, chest heaving as he catches his breath and relaxing thigh muscles tight with tension. “ _Keith_ ,” is all Shiro can manage before he’s coming too, hips stuttering a last aborted thrust and bouncing Keith in the water, which laps at the side of the bath without quite slopping over the edge this time. Any thoughts of wasting a towel to mop it up are banished when Keith lifts up one last time, letting Shiro slip free and making them both groan at the loss.

They get out of the bath with limbs half-asleep, flushed and grateful for fluffy towels. Shiro stumbles downstairs first, leaving Keith yawning as he pads into the bedroom, and puts coffee on.

When Keith eventually appears, he’s wearing Shiro’s dressing gown, and Shiro smiles to himself as he looks out of the window. They aren’t close enough to their neighbours to scandalise anyone by wearing nothing but boxers in the kitchen, and there’s no chill from the cloudless blue sky, sunlight warming Shiro from the inside out.

“You know,” Keith says wryly, coming up behind him, “we christened the bath before the bed.”

Shiro moves so he can gather Keith close to him, mindful of his coffee and blinking in the sun streaming through the bay windows. He thinks about the past four years, how they seem to have flown by, and is glad to take this slow moment now to appreciate how far they’ve come.

“We have all the time in the world,” Shiro says, realising as he says it that he’s not talking about the bath anymore, and the idea of nothing but time together isn’t daunting. He feels more free than he has in a long time, outside the bustle of the city and ready to take on the world with Keith at his side. “I love you,” he adds, because he hasn’t yet said it today.

“I love you, too,” Keith says fondly, turning his face up for a kiss.

Surrounded by boxes in a home half-unpacked but already full of the things that really matter, love and warmth and sunlight, Shiro kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> cannot BELIEVE it's been just over three years of guys my age!! thank you to everyone who loved this series and i hope you love the conclusion as much as i do — it's been a long time in the making <3
> 
> i'd really appreciate any comments if you enjoyed this!! you can find me on tumblr at starboykeith.tumblr.com and twitter at twitter.com/starboysheith c:


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